


You Are My Light: An Anthology

by omaidoggo



Series: The Valhalla Academy AU [2]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Blood and Injury, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Mentions of Cancer, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26106430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaidoggo/pseuds/omaidoggo
Summary: The Valkyrie: the one who judges, the wings of healing, the light that resurrects. The outsiders find this a blessing -- but the Einherjar often don't know what to make of it. To be graced by Her light is to taste death, and while they may be healed of whatever has ailed them, they find some scars still remain.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo & Lee Seoho, Lee Seoho & Son Dongju | Xion
Series: The Valhalla Academy AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880152
Kudos: 14





	1. Lee Seoho

Seoho woke up to a low buzz, a surprise considering just how loud Leedo’s snoring was. He rubbed at the bleariness in his eyes and made his way toward the sound. It better not have been another appliance he’d be called to fix… and it seemed to be coming from the bathroom. He pushed open the already slightly ajar door and peeked inside.

“Xion?”

Xion gasped, flailing as he dropped something. Were those… hair clippers?

Xion swept the clippers off the ground and unplugged it, quickly hiding it behind his back.

“I… I was going to trim my hair a bit.”

Seoho tilted his head.

“Do you need help then?”

“No,” he snapped. He started to stuff the clippers back into the bathroom drawer. “I’m done, I promise.”

“Lemme see.”

Xion opened his mouth like he was ready to object, but closed it before anything could come out. He turned his head from side to side.

“And the back?”

Then turned around to show an uneven trim -- whether it was because he hadn’t finished or was simply clumsy, Seoho didn’t know. Shaking his head, Seoho took the clippers out again and went to work.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Xionie. We all make mistakes.”

He could feel him pout under all the trembling, and for a moment he wondered if the younger was crying. He didn’t want to look in the mirror to confirm. He wasn’t ever good at emotions -- that was Ravn’s- Leedo’s job now he supposed... not that Xion was going to go to  _ him _ .

“All done,” Seoho chirped, turning off the buzzer. Xion nodded, not even turning to face him as he walked out the bathroom.

Poor kid. He shook his head, and began sweeping up the clippings.

“Xionie.”

“Yeah, hyung?” Xion replied from the couch as he continued to scroll down his Instagram feed.

“I’m getting my roots touched up next week,” Seoho said, taking a careful glance at the amount in his bank account, “Do you wanna come along and get something done?”

“Like?”

“A new color, a new cut, something to freshen up before the semester starts, you know?” he said, shrugging though he knew he wouldn’t see it. He had enough for two bleachings if Xion really wanted to go platinum, though Xion didn’t seem like the kind to do something so dramatic so quickly. Then again, Seoho hadn’t seemed that way either when he decided to bleach his hair.

“I’ll think about it,” Xion finally replied, going back to his phone. Seoho nodded, again, aware he wouldn’t see it.

“Alright. I’ll be booking the appointment tomorrow so lemme know before then.”

“I will.”

He was surprised Xion didn’t question his sudden decision to include him in his plans, so at least that was a success. Even more surprising was Xion coming into his room that night, phone in hand and pictures collected, asking what colors Seoho thought suited him.

“That red looks nice.”

“I know right?” Xion said with a hum. “Ah, but it’s too gaudy. People will stare.”

“I don’t think anyone cares…” Seoho mumbled. Xion pinched him -- earning a yelp and soon after a laugh as the younger removed the brightly colored hair from his collection. So much like his younger self…

And like that, he was taken to that memory of the wig shop, his first time out of the hospital in what seemed like forever. He walked straight to the blacks and browns, past the neons, past the pastels, even past the blondes as he examined the “normal” wigs. He didn’t care so much about length -- he could always cut and style them -- but he couldn’t help but sigh at all the colors. Nothing really grabbed him, but maybe that was the point.

“Hyung~ look at this brown.”

It was a warm chestnut tone -- subtle, yet flattering all on its own. Seoho figured if it caught the light just right it’d look like smooth, milk chocolate. He nodded, smiling.

“That’d look good too.”

“And my hair wouldn’t end up as fried as yours,” Xion replied triumphantly as he began to delete the other colors off his phone. Seoho shook his head. Xion was lucky he was the maknae -- he’d be on the ground crying otherwise. He smiled at the thought.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Leedo stood at the door, waiting for permission as if this wasn’t his room. Xion stood up, bowing to both him and Seoho before bidding them goodnight and leaving, leaving Leedo to sigh alone at the entrance.

“Am I that scary?”

“It’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself,” Seoho mumbled, stretching over his bed. Leedo scoffed.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” he replied, curtly. “How someone reacts isn’t your fault, they choose how they feel.”

“Hey, look here-”

“Like how you’re choosing to get angry when I haven’t said anything about you and you don’t know whether I’m actually referring to our problems or to Xion’s.”

He could feel Leedo clenching his fists, grinding his teeth without even having to look -- he always did that when he was frustrated. To be fair, Seoho was indeed being passive-aggressive, and he  _ did _ deserve whatever rage Leedo was harboring toward him at this moment. But hey, at least it’d stop any more conversation between them. If Leedo wanted to pick a fight, so be it. Seoho would just act like the bigger, better man, and maybe one day Leedo would see just how immature he was being holding onto this stupid grudge that was literally tearing everyone apart.

Well, not like Seoho was doing any better.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight then,” Leedo muttered, throwing his stuff on the ground before going off to shower after what had definitely been a late night workout. Seoho glanced at the doorway, willing the door closed and the lightswitch off before sinking deep into his covers.

It was moments like these, when the air felt cold and sterile, that he felt like he was back in the hospital, alone with perfunctory greetings and farewells that made his bones ache. And it was moments like these that he yearned for a friend to provide some warmth against the air-conditioning that was turned up too high, for some sense of connection, some reassurance that he really wasn’t alone in his thoughts -- his wretched thoughts -- and it was then he felt like his younger self, struggling to find life where there was only a husk.

Even with whatever ember in Leedo quenched as he practically collapsed in bed, Seoho couldn’t help but feel his rage flickering at his heels. But at least Leedo still had some shred of feeling toward him. The cold, the sterility: that was all Seoho’s doing. And it was moments like these where he cursed himself for being a coward.

The day of the hair appointment finally arrived, thank goodness. Xion hadn’t explicitly told him how excited he was to get his hair done -- even if it was only a slight lightening -- but Seoho could feel it bubbling beneath the surface all the same. The way he grinned while telling Hwanwoong and Keonhee over a game of UNO, how he literally bounced out the dorm on the way to Dongmyeong’s, and even the eagerness in his eyes as he tried to steer Ravn toward talking about it over breakfast was pretty telling. As much as Seoho wouldn’t like to admit it, he felt the same way. Sure he’d been to the salon on a monthly basis for at least two years, but the same giddiness always returned. Maybe it was the fact he had time for himself. Maybe it was the fact that it was his hair. Hair! Whatever it was, neither he nor Xion could contain themselves as they crossed the rainbow bridge back to the city and made their way to the salon.

Seoho opened the door, a pleasant bell ringing as they entered, Xion grasping onto his hand.

“Oh! Seoho-ya, welcome back,” the receptionist, Jieun, said with her typical, pretty grin. Seoho waved with his free hand.

“Hi Jieun.”

“That’s all?”

“Yup.”

She rolled her eyes, quickly settling her gaze -- sparkling -- onto Xion.

“Oooh, who’s this cutie here?”

“Ah, this is my teammate, Xion,” Seoho replied. Xion let go of his hand to bow.

“Nice to meet you, Jieun-nim.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she cooed. She clapped her hands together. “Right, so a touch-up for Seoho and just an all around lightening for your  _ adorable _ little teammate?”

“Sounds right.”

Jieun nodded, inputting the info on the computer before gesturing over to the chairs behind the desk.

“Right this way gentlemen! We’ll be sure to take good care of you.”

Jieun and her employees worked effectively and efficiently, as always, and after half an hour of application, chatting, and in general fawning over Xion’s pretty face and “even prettier manners,” Seoho and Xion were left in the chairs, waiting for the bleach and dye to finish processing.

“So,” Xion began, “how’d you find this place?”

“Hwanwoong recommended it to me, actually,” Seoho smiled, remembering the way Hwanwoong wouldn’t look at him even as he had sputtered out the salon name.

_ “I’m not telling you this because we’re friends, go it? It’d just be a shame if you lost all your hair again. Even I have standards.” _

Xion raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Woong?”

“Is it so hard to believe?” Seoho chuckled. Xion shook his head, trying oh so obviously to suppress a laugh.

“It’s… it’s just so him.”

Seoho nodded and settled further into the salon chair, humming to himself. The bleach stung, but at this point he was used to it. Ah, but the first time he had it done it felt like his scalp was on fire -- and it was even healthier then than it was now.

_ “Are you sure it’s a good idea?” _

_ “Geonhakkie,” he managed to say with more laugh than groan, “I went without any hair for the entirety of my teenage life, I think I deserve to do what I want with it now.” _

_ “Yeah… but…” _

_ Gunmin raised an eyebrow. _

_ “But?” _

_ “Aren’t you afraid it’ll all fall out?” he stammered. The poor boy wouldn’t even meet his eyes. He looked like a puppy who knew he’d done wrong, or at least done something embarrassing -- and on second thought, the question did seem a little… elementary. But maybe that’s why it was so charming. Gunmin couldn’t help but chuckle. _

“Ah… I remember the first time coming here I was just like you,” Seoho sighed. “I was so giddy I couldn’t stop smiling.”

“Can confirm,” Jieun chimed in from the storage closet. Xion’s eyes perked.

“Did you go with anyone?”

“Mm, no,” he chirped, “I think Leedo secretly wanted to come along though.”

“ _ Leedo-hyung _ ?” Xion exclaimed. Seoho nodded, much to Xion’s disbelief if he was to judge from his huffing.

“I think he wanted to see me suffer.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.”

“Xion-ssi~ time for phase two!” Jieun called, carrying what Seoho guessed was toner. “Seoho-ya, we’ll be getting the bleach out and your hair dry in just a moment.”

The loud whirring of the blowdryer died down, and Seoho couldn’t help but grin as Xion’s eyes widened.

“Hyung!”

“Yes?”

He pointed at the mirror, free hand over his mouth.

“My hair!”

“It looks nice,” Seoho said, standing behind him. Xion turned around, patting his arm, the normal nonchalance in his demeanor replaced by pure, gleeful light. Jieun let out a clearly exaggerated yawn as she stretched.

“Looks like another happy customer to me!~”

“Thanks again for your hard work,” Seoho replied.

“Of course,” she said, waving a hand. “Now, my paycheck?”

He rolled his eyes, but laughed as they made their way back to the counter. Xion firmly latched onto Seoho’s hand as he paid for the one of the few things he was happy to spend money on. After some bows and smiling farewells, they exited the shop, greeted by the setting sun’s sleepy rays.

And someone’s stomach rumbling. Seoho looked at Xion, eyebrow quirked.

“Hungry?”

“A little…” he mumbled, kicking the ground. Seoho checked his phone.

“Well, it is about dinner time. Come on, I’ll treat you.”

“That sounds really nice,” Xion hummed, but not without a sigh. “Are you sure hyung? You already spent enough on me.”

“I’m sure,” Seoho replied. “I usually grab something afterwards anyway.”

Which was  _ actually _ true for the simple fact that he was usually hungry after hair appointments as well. Besides, Xion’s hair treatment hadn’t cost as much as a full head bleaching -- they could easily squeeze in a treat at a cafe or something and stay in the arbitrary budget Seoho had set up. Xion clapped his hand between his own.

“Hyung, let’s go then~ Please?”

“Alright, alright,” Seoho said, tightening his grip around Xion’s hand. And with that, they started toward the nearest cafe.

The line was thankfully short, and the service time pleasantly shorter -- and in about ten minutes they were handed their hot chocolate in sleeves. They watched as the cashier began nicely placing their cake in a neat little box somewhat resembling a purse.

“Hyung?”

“Yes?”

“Can we… dine in?”

“I don’t see why not,” Seoho replied, bowing his head as he took the box from the counter. “Why?”

“Nothing. Thank you for the food~”

“Of course.”

The sun had long since set by the time they’d finished their food -- and Xion had made sure they’d finished every bit, even if it had taken a long time. It was unexpected to say the least, and he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed going back to the dorm without any leftovers.

They made their way up to the top of an abandoned building, Seoho taking out a runestone from his pocket and holding it in the air. Soon enough, the rainbow bridge appeared to take them back. It still didn’t make sense how a rainbow could form without water, let alone in the night, but then again a lot of things didn’t make sense anymore.

“Xionie?”

Xion’s head perked up, and he hurried along to catch up to Seoho at the cloud gates. He took his hand.

“Sorry, I was just…”

“Don’t apologize,” Seoho mumbled, “we’re not in a hurry or anything.”

“I know. I just…”

Xion stared at the ground, and for a moment he didn’t even move. Seoho stepped forward -- and the icy air cracked.

Xion fell into his arms, buried his head in his shoulder, quivering frame and quivering voice shattering into tears, not loud, not loud at all, and Seoho couldn’t help but hold him, and hold him close. And he felt so small, so young -- he  _ was _ young -- and like everyone else he was too young to have gone through what they’d been through. Like everyone else, like Seoho, he was trying so hard to move on. Just to move on…

“I don’t want to go back.”

They sunk into the clouds, on their knees, holding on. The sobs gave way to whimpers, and later to ragged, but deliberate breaths taking in the cold air. Xion moved and leaned into Seoho’s side, and Seoho found himself leaning back, head on his.

“Dongju-ya.”

Xion flinched at the name, but only leaned further into him, and soon his breathing finally stabilized between sniffles -- whether from the cold or from the tears, he didn’t pry.

“I…”

Dongju’s voice caught in his throat, the words mulling over in his head in caution, hesitance, and he could see him contemplating whether to keep everything in despite a breaking facade, or to let it all pour in a flood. Seoho nudged him.

“Go on.”

“I thought… I thought it was a blessing,” he said, warmth shuddering against the chill. “I was so happy Dongmyeong was safe, that Dongmyeong was with me.”

“But?”

He buried his face in Seoho’s coat, and he felt him starting to tremble again.

“But everything else. I just realized everything else.”

“The pain doesn’t feel worth it, does it?”

Dongju nodded against his chest.

“Hyung?”

“Yes?”

“Did you feel this way, coming here?”

_ He closed his eyes, sighing as if it could get rid of the ache in his chest, his bones. Nothing -- not even the months of medication and radiation -- had gotten rid of it, what could a sigh do then? He couldn’t feel his heart, yet he was painfully aware of the blurred colors swimming in his vision, the light that glared through it all, too bright for his aching head, his aching body. Then one day he felt nothing at all. _

_ And Her light shone instead, gracing him with what he could’ve been, what he used to be, what he was. And when he emerged, the sickly boy in the hospital had died. _

Seoho draped an arm around his back, and slowly the trembling subsided beneath his touch. He leaned in, and his head touched his.

“I did. I did for a long time.”

_ “Hyung.” _

_ “You’re okay,” Gunmin muttered. He propped up Geonhak’s chin, checked the bruises on his face, fetched some ice packs to put on his swelling eye. He began dabbing away at the blood at his lip, and noticed it was trembling. _

_ “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We all make mistakes.” _

_ “Hyung.” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Am I really lucky?” _

_ Gunmin stopped. He turned to look him in the eye -- his tear filled eyes. They crinkled up, Geonhak’s chest heaving raggedly as he buried his face in his hands, catching the blood, the tears. _

_ “Am I really lucky..?” _

“I think all of us felt that way,” he mumbled. Dongju nodded again, and sunk into his lap with a sigh.

They sat there like that for a long time, on the clouds, at the precipice of winter and spring, overlooking the city with all its twinkling lights to rival the stars.

They eventually made it back to the dorm. Dongju gave Seoho one more hug and “thank you” before slipping into his room, likely joining Hwanwoong and Keonhee in whatever movie Seoho had caught a glimpse of before the door slammed in his face. Ah, those kids… they were lucky the semester still hadn’t started.

He sighed as he plopped down on his bed. Leedo looked up from his phone.

“Fun day?”

“Yup.”

He looked at the empty bunk over Leedo.

“Ravn’s still not back?”

“Nope.”

He sighed. For all Ravn’s insistence on following curfew, he was certainly the worst of them all at actually keeping it. When was the last time he’d actually seen Ravn in bed at night? He couldn’t remember.

“Your hair looks nice.”

“Thanks,” Seoho replied curtly, though he was sure he didn’t really look all that different.

“Does the bleach still hurt?”

“Probably hurts more than before,” he chuckled. “Why, thinking of going blonde?”

Leedo huffed.

“Just wondering.”

_ “Your hair…” _

_ Gunmin had to keep himself from scratching the back of his head. His scalp had been through more in the past eight hours than it had in the past eight years and he was not about to go around losing hair again. Not that it would’ve been a problem -- after all he still had a wig stuffed in the back of his closet. _

_ “What about it?” he asked with a smile. He didn’t care about Geonhak’s opinion anyway -- like he said before, it was his hair, and he’d waited too long for this moment to care what others thought. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous, watching Geonhak squirm and fidget. Was he really that uncomfortable? _

_ “It looks nice.” _

_ Gunmin laughed, raising an eyebrow. _

_ “Thanks?” _

_ “No, I mean it!” Geonhak said, “It really does look nice.” _

_ He huffed -- well now he couldn’t laugh, or else Geonhak would more than likely start nagging him, insisting he accept the compliment and only getting more worked up everytime he deflected, and Gunmin was  _ not  _ about to have a puppy at his heels all across campus. He looked down. _

_ “Thanks.” _

_ “Of course. Have you shown Youngjo?” _

_ “Not yet.” _

_ It was Geonhak’s turn to laugh as he slung an arm around his shoulders despite his protests, and he was showered with compliments (albeit in an imitation of Youngjo) all through campus as they went to look for their friend. So much for avoiding this embarrassment… but he liked it. It all felt so close, so warm. It was moments like these -- in Geonhak’s unreasonably strong arms, Youngjo’s shameless flattery intended only to embarrass him, and the chasing, the teasing, the fighting all in the name of a joke -- it was moments like these he felt warm, alive. He liked it. _

_ He really liked it. _

Seoho looked at Leedo, who’d turned his back to the room, but in that moment all he could see was Geonhak -- but he didn’t feel at all like Gunmin.

He pulled the blankets over himself, cursing the howling wolves outside, and wished against all logic for the past to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh thank you for reading! This entire collection is gonna be a huge angst fest so uh yeah. I'm starting college again in a week, so updates will probably be infrequent. Future chapters might have spoilers if I actually decide to incorporate a plot ever.  
> Special thanks to my friend yuiyua_ on Instagram for helping me proofread this chapter!
> 
> P.s. it hurts me too knowing that Dongju and Seoho aren't on good terms with Geonhak, but I promise it has its reason
> 
> P.p.s. stream To Be Or Not To Be


	2. Kim Geonhak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, this contains spoilers for The Wolves and the Ravens so yeah if you haven't read that yet, go ahead and do it! (or don't up to you, it's a mess anyways)  
> this chapter is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine!

_ “Leedo, like the name of King Sejong the Great?” Youngjo wondered aloud.  _

_ At first the name felt like oversized gloves: functional, but uncomfortable. He knew the historical implications of his name, felt himself too cocky, too arrogant, too shameful to be using it. But he’d hoped he could grow into it. Being here, he’d become strong, powerful, like a king if he so wished, but he’d be kind, benevolent, he’d protect the people who couldn’t fend for themselves because of something so out of their control. _

_ Geonhak nodded, and Youngjo hummed to the bright, blue sky. _

_ “Poetic.” _

_ “You… you think?” _

_ “Absolutely,” he said, smiling. Youngjo understood that. Of course Youngjo understood that. He plucked a poppy from the field -- bright red -- and put it in Geonhak’s ear. “I think it suits you.” _

“Leedo.”

Seoho tugged on his arm, and Geonhak watched the younger three members walk inside without them, though Xion lingered just a moment longer, as if waiting for permission. A wave from Seoho dismissed him, and then it was just them, outside in the cold, spring night. Geonhak huffed, turning away.

“Do-ya, look at me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” And he was. He… he knew he shouldn’t have been so worried, so much so as to neglect the younger members, especially now that they had a first year who hadn’t even manifested his Gifts. They needed him -- even- even if Xion was quick to pull away, scared and nervous.

But Youngjo… Youngjo was in danger. If it was going to be anything like last year, he’d be gone for longer and longer, and he’d come back more and more ill each time, further down the rabbit-hole he had dug for himself in pursuit of some fever dream-

“Do-ya."

“What?”

“We need to talk,” Seoho replied, flat, cold. By “we” he meant “not us, not me, you,” avoiding the real problem at hand, like he always did. He sighed. Geonhak -- no, Leedo -- clenched his jaw.

“If you’re just going to scold me, I’m not hearing it.”

“Geonhak-”

Leedo stepped up.

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“Then when will you listen?” Seoho cried, his hand slowly floating in between them. “When will you stop fixating on the past and just move on?”

“I would if you would stop pushing me away!”

Seoho’s eyes widened, his brow wrinkled, himself slinking back. Blood pumped against Leedo’s ears, his throbbing heart pounding against his straining chest as his throat went dry and his eyes started to burn.

“Haven’t you ever thought about how I felt? How I feel? Have you ever even thought about apologizing to me?”

“Geonhakkie-” 

“Do you really think you could take away my best friend and move on like nothing happened? Do you really think I’m fine with that?” 

Silence. Leedo looked into his eyes.

“Do you?”

The crack in the ice flickered for a moment, but the frost came quickly and the crack was mended in a new sheet of cold. Seoho straightened up.

“I tried. We tried, but you’re the one who keeps pushing away.”

With that, Seoho slid past him and went into the dorm, leaving Geonhak with no rights and all wrongs and wondering just how, how did they ever come to this? He didn’t want to be this way. He had never wanted to be this way.

_ Geonhak remembered first seeing Gunmin during summer classes, the first person in the classroom, quietly sitting at the edge of the room with his brown bangs barely sitting over his eyes. They never talked much during the first week of classes, nor the second or even the third. Needless to say, he was surprised when one day Youngjo patted him on the shoulder and pointed at the desk he normally sat at. _

_ “Do-ya! Look, a box!” _

_ Like Youngjo had said, there was a small, white box sitting atop his desk, tied closed with a neat, golden ribbon. He looked at Youngjo, but he seemed just as confused as he was. _

_ “Wonder who put it there,” Youngjo muttered. _

_ Upon closer inspection there was a small card strung through the ribbon, angled perfectly downward from the top. He leaned down to read it, not wanting to disturb the rest of the display. _

To: Leedo

Happy (early) Birthday! Hope you have a wonderful weekend celebration.

_ He looked back at the box. There was a part of him hesitant to open it, to ruin just how nice it looked. But Youngjo once again patted his shoulder, and nodded at it. _

_ “Well? Open it.” _

_ Geonhak remembered pulling at the ribbons, the flaps of the box. He remembered the cake that sat perfectly in the center, remembered clinging to Youngjo, remembered struggling to fight back tears. And he remembered the click of the door, as the only other person in the classroom left. _

Gunmin- no, Seoho always ran away when he was uncomfortable. He ran away then, when his kindness was discovered, he ran away now, avoiding talk of him, Geonhak, Youngjo, what was happening now, what happened that night. And the worst part? He kept acting like nothing was wrong, like he was the bigger man, caring for his team, like he wasn’t some traitor who’d  _ killed his friend out of the blue. _

Killed his friend out of the blue. It just didn’t make sense. No matter how much he wracked his brain trying to find clues, hints, _ reasons _ behind Seoho’s act, he just couldn’t. Geonhak couldn’t find anything. All he could find was the way his hair glinted in the sun like a halo, the way he’d slip his fingers into theirs like they’d always belonged there, and the way he smiled at Youngjo, at Geonhak, like they meant the world to him.

What he would give to have that back.

“Seoho-hyung and I are going to get groceries tonight.”

The statement came as a shock to everyone, including Seoho. His eyes were as wide as his mouth, searching, wildly, for what Geonhak expected was an excuse. With a final glance back at their expectant dongsaengs, Seoho put on a smile, nodding.

“Right. We’re getting groceries. We’re almost out of toilet paper, aren’t we?”

“And shampoo!” Keonhee chirped up. Xion nodded, clasping Hwanwoong’s hand.

“Yeah, if you could get hair masks too, that’d be great.”

“Don’t forget my boba!”

“Of course, Woong.”

“We’ll pay you back.”

“You better, Keonhya.”

Geonhak’s head swirled at their sudden requests, but Seoho sang “see you later”s to the team, and before he could even have the chance to catalogue their added groceries, Seoho gently tapped his elbow, leading him to the Academy gate. There, away from their gaze, Seoho dropped his smile. It was frightening how quickly his bright eyes could turn cold -- and cold they were, even with his drooping shoulders betraying fatigue, not only physical.

“What do you want?”

“To go shopping with you.”

“You must be desperate then.” The hairs rose up on the back of his neck as Seoho clicked his tongue. “Are we flying?”

“No.”

“You must be  _ really _ desperate.”

“Stop saying weird things,” Geonhak grumbled. He started on the rainbow bridge back to the city, glancing back,  _ just come along _ , he hoped his eyes pleaded. Again, Seoho seemed to search for an excuse, but none came. Instead, he stepped forward, acting like he wasn’t defeated, and like that, he was following Geonhak's pace.

_ So familiar, yet so strange. _ He clenched his hands into fists.

It was a while before the familiar, yet foreign, silence was broken -- and Seoho was the one to do it with as much faux-cheer he could muster.

“So what are we doing?”

“Going shopping.”

Seoho made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and the air grew heavier between them. The silence begged the question more than words could.

“Look, I’m not doing… this because we’re friends,” Geonhak sputtered. Seoho raised an eyebrow, an action caught in his periphery. Geonhak… didn’t mean it. Yes, they weren’t friends -- yet, it felt like he was trying to convince himself rather than establish some boundary. “I’m doing this because I feel bad for blowing up in front of the younger ones.”

Seoho nodded.

“I see.”

“We’re getting pancake mix. And strawberry jam. The kind Keonhee likes.”

“You know they won’t let me anywhere near the kitchen, right?” Seoho chuckled. Geonhak rolled his eyes.

“They don’t have to know. I’ll be watching you closely anyway.”

The joke somehow felt like a misstep; Geonhak felt it sting in his throat. Words -- familiar in delivery -- that once would have lightened the mood now dampened it further, and Seoho’s attempt at a laugh strained bitter against his ears.

“As if that’s unusual.”

_ “I’ve never been out like this before.” _

_ It was a sudden confession that slipped out before he could make sense of it, and fortunately it was only between him, Youngjo, and Gunmin. Youngjo seemed to have the tact -- or the fear -- enough to simply nod along, placing some of the grilled pork into Geonhak’s bowl. Gunmin on the other hand, perked his head, curiously like a squirrel sensing danger. _

_ “Really?” _

_ Geonhak nodded, folding his arms over his chest. Something in him wanted to explode, and he wasn’t sure if it was out of joy or pain. Birthdays had never been more than a dearly cherished bowl of seaweed soup, much less meat or cake to accompany it. But he knew better than to cry in public -- if there was one thing he possessed, it was pride. _

_ Something that Gunmin was about to dash into pieces. _

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ “It’s a lettuce wrap, for you.” Gunmin held out the wrap in question, obviously up to no good. “Happy birthday, Geonhak.” _

_ “You’re so weird,” Geonhak scoffed, like they had been friends for years rather than a few days. Youngjo raised an eyebrow as he watched Gunmin stick the lettuce wrap in his mouth, and burst out laughing as Geonhak accepted it, squinting against the spice that never came. Geonhak opened one eye to find Gunmin giggling as he helped himself to the meat. _

_ “No prank?” _

_ “You’ll get your birthday beatings later,” Gunmin hummed, “I just won’t be the one handing them out.” _

Their trip to the store passed mostly in silence, yet again, with Geonhak passing a few products over to Seoho for him to examine. Seoho put back a few of the shampoo bottles, others he deposited into the basket, making sure they all aligned, side by side, packed like sardines. If there were a few things that hadn’t changed, Seoho’s insistence on order was one.

Some running back and forth between aisles later, and they ended at the check-out counter, basket filled with their completed grocery list, minus the boba they’d get at the shop on the way back. Geonhak started fishing his wallet out of his coat pocket, when Seoho butted in front of him.

“These are mine, thank you.”

“What are you doing?” Geonhak hissed. Seoho waved a hand.

“No matter how much you hate me, I’m still your hyung.”

“Look, I can-”

“I’m paying, Do-ya.”

If the cashier noticed anything wrong, she didn’t say anything. Geonhak understood -- after too many nights as a part-timer, there was no energy left to really care about what happened. Well, other than whether his family would have food that night.

Watching Seoho pay, he guessed some habits just die hard -- like his own habit of taking all the grocery bags when they were done.

The two quickly said their thanks and bowed out of the store into the night. As soon as they were out they turned down the street toward the boba place, Seoho checking his phone as they half-walked half-ran past couples and friends just trying to have a nice evening walk together.

“There’s 10 minutes 'till closing time. We won’t make it walking.”

“Well what do you want me to do about it?” Geonhak said, turning over his shoulder and squinting. Seoho pointed at his back.

“Wings, idiot!”

“You can keep track of this many bags?”

“Wow, so little confidence,” Seoho said, rolling his eyes much to Geonhak’s grumbling. Geonhak let go of the bags and bent down to let Seoho climb onto his back, the bags themselves levitating courtesy of Seoho. He glanced back -- Seoho furrowed his brow.

“Yes?”

“Comfy?”

“A lot better than walking.”

Geonhak scoffed. His shoulders tingled as black wings sprouted from his back, startling a few people off the sidewalk. Both he and Seoho apologized with polite smiles, and with an unnatural leap, took off into the frigid winter air.

The flight didn’t take long, but there was something about the way Seoho clung to him that made him strangely… peaceful. For those brief moments, things felt normal.

They landed at the shop, and the bags fell into Geonhak’s hands as he held the door open for Seoho to dart in and start ordering right in the nick of time.

The barista had seemed a little more than annoyed and overworked when they came, but Geonhak hoped the little jokes and kind demeanor of Seoho made her day somewhat better. (He was always that way on the outside.) They came out with a cup in a carrier for Hwanwoong and two more in hand, with Seoho once again insisting he pay. Geonhak slurped his watermelon juice bitterly then.

He found his thoughts wandering again as they walked toward the ominously dubbed Gate From This World to the Next, an abandoned building from which they could access the rainbow bridge. He remembered when he had climbed the rickety stairs the first time -- he had been alone then, and scared of falling.

He wasn’t alone now, yet he felt more lonely than he had then.

Seoho was diligent following the path back to the Academy. Every now and then, though, he’d glance at the rooftops with nostalgia in his breath. Like in flight, this felt normal. It was normal enough, then, for Geonhak to brush his arm, not quite looking him in the eye as he asked his question.

“You want up?”

“Hm?” Seoho looked at him like he hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about. Geonhak sighed.

“If you want, I can take you.”

Geonhak waited for the snarky remark to come through, like “no way I’d let you take me up, you’d push me off the moment we got there,” or another “you’re desperate,” or even just a huff expressing disinterest, but it never came. Rather, there was just looking up at the rooftops, something silent, wistful. Seoho looked to him.

“Would you?”

_ “Would you fly me up the tower for class?” _

_ “Of course,” Youngjo replied as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Gunmin sighed, nearly collapsing with relief, and Geonhak caught him before he could. He quickly pushed away though, steadying himself on his own feet with perfunctory “I’m okay”s before sighing again, smiling despite the obvious fatigue on his drooping shoulders, his shaking knees. _

_ Having been graced by the Valkyrie’s Light didn’t mean everything wrong had gone away, and Gunmin’s frail frame was testament to that. While his cancer was gone, he clearly had a ways to go before he could start training. Geonhak could only imagine what kinds of hell Gunmin went through, climbing up the hundreds of stairs that made up the Runescribing Tower. It didn’t come as a surprise then, that he asked what he did, even if he was biting his lip and rubbing his hands as he did. _

_ “I mean, I’m pretty sure I can. My wings still aren’t that strong though.” _

_ Youngjo turned to Geonhak. _

_ “Do you think you could..?” _

_ Something caught in his chest. “Do you think you could fly him too?” was what Youngjo wanted to ask, and the obvious answer -- and the answer everyone, including Geonhak, wanted -- was yes, of course he could. But he thought of the ground, removed from his feet, falling, seeing his classmates’ faces contort in horror as they realized their crime- _

_ “I’m sorry… I can’t.” _

_ There was the cake, the unexpected kindness from a stranger, and the odd familiarity there was between them. There was his failing shoulders, shaking knees, and a smile that didn’t quite make crescents in his eyes, and Geonhak knew he had to do it. _

_ “But I’ll try.” _

“Do you remember?”

“Depends on what you want me to remember,” Geonhak mumbled. Seoho kicked him, their legs dangling over the roof’s edge.

“That.”

Geonhak huffed, smiling as he looked at his hands.

“Yeah, I remember.”

The road before them seemed familiar, but then again, every street in the city looked the same. Yet, something distinct tugged at his memory, something sweet and surgary.

“Was this the road..?”

“We chased the ice cream truck through?” Seoho finished for him. “Yeah.”

He smiled, laughing at a scene only he could see, though Geonhak knew exactly what it was.

“Ah, the look on the driver’s face was priceless.”

“I mean, we were two adults landing on top of the truck to stop it,” Geonhak laughed, inserting his drink into the carrier. Seoho pursed his lips.

“Mm, I wouldn’t call you an adult then.”

“What?”

“Scrawny kid. That’s what you were.”

“You’re one to talk.”

They snickered, swaying in the winter night. Seoho, however, seemed to be swaying more than normal -- actually, he wasn’t swaying at all, just shivering under the sweater he had thrown on after practice. Oh, right, they hadn’t gone back to grab their coats. Geonhak grabbed his hands.

“Here.”

“Do-ya, I’m fine-”

_ Please, call me Geonhak. _

The ice in his hands melted in Geonhak’s grasp. With a bit of a push, Geonhak felt Her sparks channel through the rest of Seoho’s arm, into his chest, to the rest of his body. Seoho tensed at first -- he always did when touched -- but slowly relaxed as the warmth washed over him, and his shaking died down.

“Things have changed, haven’t they?”

Geonhak looked up at him for a moment before focusing again on the warmth.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Silence.

“Do you miss it at all?”

“No,” he said, biting back the truth that raged in him like wildfire. Seoho chuckled, but it wasn’t light at all, much like that sad, bitter laugh from the start.

“Then why do you stick around?”

Geonhak shook his head.

“You know why.”

“No I don’t, actually.”

“Then why do  _ you _ stick around?” Geonhak said, but the tone came out sharper than he had wanted. Seoho felt the tip, and curled into himself, for a moment, stuck at the knife’s edge. His eyes searched for answers, or rather, the words to say.

He looked away, and sighed.

“It’s… it’s easier this way.”

“What do you mean?”

“One question at a time,” he said, keeping himself in place so as to not meet Geonhak’s eyes. “Answer me.”

The memories spun through his head, chattering happily at the barbeque, sitting on the rooftops laughing where no one could bother them, the overpriced ice cream dripping down their fingers -- how Keonhee laughed and Hwanwoong played pranks, how Gunmin would play along while Youngjo watched and coddled them all, how Geonhak wouldn’t trade the world for this patch of family he’d found and thought he’d have forever, how much he wanted to go back to how it was, how hard he was trying to protect  _ them _ from… from falling apart.

“For Youngjo. You… you know what he thinks of us.”

Seoho nodded, looking at his hands, their hands.

“Same here.”

It was… a moment of mutual understanding, perhaps one they’d shared many times over, no matter how much their paths diverged -- then again, maybe they hadn’t drifted as far apart as they had thought. It was foreign, yet familiar, like everything had been for the past year.  _ That night _ was their shared secret, one they’d keep no matter how painful it was, if only to keep everyone together.

If only to play charades for Youngjo’s sake.

Geonhak let go of Seoho, dragging his arms back onto his knees. He didn’t hate Seoho at all… He couldn’t. He missed those days… he missed them so much- he missed  _ him _ so much, more than words could ever express. But it was easier to lie and convince himself he hated him, because who knew when Seoho would betray them again?

Did Seoho feel the same way? He could never tell.

_ They sat on the rooftops overlooking the street that sweltering summer day. The ice cream truck had long since driven away, going a little faster than it had before they had caught it. Now that Geonhak thought about it, perhaps they’d been a little too forward, a little too intimidating with their approach. But what could they do? Gunmin had never had ice cream truck ice cream, and the ice cream truck had passed by the street five minutes ago -- there was no way they’d catch up to it running. Sure, they could have just waited until the next day for the truck to come along the route again, but by God they were going to get Gunmin ice cream truck ice cream that day and nothing was gonna stop them. Obviously, the only way they could do that was to fly. _

_ So there they were, on the roof, enjoying their prize quickly melting over their fingers, but they couldn’t really care. What mattered was they had the courage to reach for what they wanted, and in the end, they had seized it. _

_ It was moments like these, sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder, enraptured in laughter that Geonhak felt at home. Yes, there was a lot of bad in the world -- Geonhak had witnessed some first-hand -- and there was a lot more to be had than his sliver of experience. Yet, beside his hyungs, the bad wasn’t so daunting. He could face his past and forgive it, he could face the future and embrace it, but most importantly, he could be here, in the now, enjoying what good he had missed in the world. _

_ “Hey.” _

_ Both Youngjo and Gunmin turned to him, though he didn’t meet their eyes. Instead he smiled at the ground that lay many meters below their dangling feet, laughing at himself but knowing no other way to put how he felt into words. _

_ “You guys…” _

_ “We are?” Gunmin prodded. Youngjo nudged him, a silent encouragement to keep going. In this, he found his courage to spit out the words so cheesily thought of, that would definitely earn him teasing later. _

_ “You are my light.” _

The city lights caught in Seoho’s hair like a halo, and Geonhak wished desperately he could say the same now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i'll try to alternate between this and magical theory to keep the angst and the fluff in balance lol


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